"You shouldn't try to believe me, Talia. Because even I know that it's madness."

Kie had taken a pause earlier before he'd resumed. He was walking side by side with the brown horse with few laces of white stripes running through its long mouth. The horse was chewing, Kie's right palm on its stomach.

He was returning home from the day's hunt. The caught Impala on the horse's back. His house was at the outskirt of the village, the first lone hut whose company was the thick, dense forest. Which means, if a man sought to leave the land, he would walk past his hut, if such was to use the route of the forest which led to another neighboring land. And also, if war was to break out, the hut was the very first victim.

He shared the old hut with his mother. Twas her property. What she inherited from her late husband. And also, because of her persistent sickness, which had been declared by the king and his minions as contagious, the both of them couldn't live with the villagers. Plus, the most temporarily effective herb for the sickness was right in that forest.

Kie Azholophased was a young handsome man who occasionally was hired by stable owners to tend to their horses. And rarely did he get to tend to the palace horses. Not that he would love to. He was tall; a solid 6’’2, had wide cheeks, a narrow chin, a big straight nose, elegant lips and blue eyes like the deep of the sea and shiny black hair. His shoulders wide, muscles in the right places. His body, highly proportional. He caught the eyes of ladies, but he never had a thing for any. Though poor, his aura exuded rich charisma. He was hardworking and smart. The stables were his source of control and the horses did obey his command. He cared about nothing but his mother and Talia. Rumour had it that he had a special connection with the horses than people. Especially Talia.

Due to his father’s demise at an early age and a father figure absent most of his life, he learnt life the hard way. When he makes his decisions, he never backed down until he was done. Only his mother was able to change his decisions. And not in all cases.

"At first, what I saw was a strange dog. I shouldn't go into the details. You're quite a fearful one."

He pat the horse and it snorted. They were now walking through the bridge of cedar woods built over a mire, which connected the forest to the land. He built it! He could now see his hut in in view.

"You lie. I'm sure you're scared. But it's okay to be scared, when we finish up with your training, you wouldn't even be scared of Panther."

The stillness of the day was wagered by the constant swing in the mood of the humming winds. They walked off the bridge.

"But then, she took a new form. She looked like a -- no details. She said I would be a king and rule this land even have a love. The fool has no idea that come next spring, mother and I would move away from this cursed land to a cave."

The horse grunted and he chuckled,

"Of course, I won't leave you behind."

They were drawing closer to the hut; from the bridge to the hut was just a stone throw.

"Even the gods have no --"

He choked on the words suddenly, hesitant to complete the sentence.

"Something is not right. It seems usually quiet."

His walking pace increased immediately as he began to hurry towards the hut. He got there and firstly tied Talia to a pole by the door, next to an open wooden box that contained herbs. He pushed the old wooden door which creaked in and almost fell off.

"Ma."

He called, stepping into the room. He saw his mother lying unconsciously on the cold earth, face down, a stool lying on her.

"Talia, herbs."

His voice loud enough to shake the whole hut down into pebble. He knelt beside the body, and turned her over, holding her face in his smeared hands which had suffered few cuts.

"Ma, wake up."

His voice firm but with an iota of doubt. Talia hurried in immediately, knocking the door off its last hinges, making it fall in, lucky not to crash on either of the two.

In the horse's mouth was some of the herbs in the wooden box outside the hut.

"Good girl."

He plucked the herb from Talia's mouth and spat on it. He squeezed with his right hand, his left, pushing her head up by the nape.

Few drops of wine lotion dripped into the paved lips of his mother; her head now on one of his laps, his right hand squeezing and positioning, the left paving her lips.

He made sure to let the drops find their ways into her lungs as he tilted her head down, her face up. And progressively, she coughed and her weak eyes flickered open.

He helped her up without saying a word and carried her in his arms. He bore her to the only closer-to-the-earth bed in the room. He made her comfortable.

He walked to the end of the room by the East where there was a tall hollowed bucket covered with a folded fabric, the same texture of the tunic he was wearing.

He opened it and brought out a bowl which contained a leftover of venison.

"Have this, ma."

He handed it to her and walked back to get water.

"Back to your stead, Talia."

He ordered and the horse headed out. He picked up the small stool and placed it by the bed. He sat.

"Sit up and eat, ma."

He helped her sit up, her back pressed to the wooden walls of the hut.

"I'm sorry, my child."

Her soft monotone cleared out. Mara, his mother was short and a little slender from the intensity of the sickness. Blue and small lips. Before, her black hair cascades to her waist, but now she wears it in plaits or rarely in braids, that's when the sickness didn't come back for a while. Coupled with the disadvantage of the unnamed fetal sickness was the lost of her royal gaits and the strength to care for her only son.

"I was foolish. Since I haven't had the sickness in four weeks, I thought to be sure if I still had it or not. So, I tried out the forbidden. Forgive me. You shouldn't get back from the hard labour to this. I wish I could bring back your father or rewind the hand of hasty time and --"

"Eat up, ma. All that matters is that you're fine."

He dismissed. Stray tears escaped her partially wrinkled face. If twasn't for the sickness, she still had the aura of winning even a king over.

"How is it coming? Heard of the birthday of the King's daughter yet? You have no choice but to be there... no one can tend to the royal horses like you. Not even the son of the cunny groom should take your place. And you could be paid few shekels of silver too. Twill help us."

He shook his head roughly,

"I won't go."

His claim staked. She coughed. He flinched.

"For the sake of your dying mother."

His face knitted a trained frown.

"I don't think the king --"

Suddenly, they both heard hurrying footsteps accompanied by a wail coming from outside and towards their hut. Kie stood up as his mother made an attempt. Both eyes glued to the door as a lady in a dirty gown rushed into the hut and fell at their feet, wailing.

Even before either of them could ask a thing, her shaky voice had snatched the stance,

"Ama, the sorcerer, your brother, mother was killed last night. He was killed on his way here. The gods took him."

Mara moved in bed as Kie flared up,

"What stupid gods!!! Wealene killed him. Only a fool will say otherwise."

He began to pace the floor,

"I knew this will happen one day. Wealene is too proud to ignore his constant attack. But doing this, killing my uncle, is but a step he shouldn't had taken. Everything ends today. He dies at my hand."

His rage which had been swelling since after his meeting with the Alan, a day before yesterday, bursted open. He walked to an end of the room where several stuff were packed. He took the sword wrapped in a black fabric. The only thing he inherited from his father.

"Don't go, child. Please don't. You're no match for Wealene. I know him too well. The gods know the best."

His mother pleaded, rolling off the bed until she was on her feet. The lady steadied her from falling.

"I don't care about your youthful love with that obnoxious king! You have no idea what power does to people."

He blurted and put up his gun,

"This power!!! And you're about to see what I can do with it."

He stomped off, giving no head to the constant call of both his mother and the lady. The lady knew too well not to dare run to hold him back. Especially when he was in rage.

He walked out of the hut and called,

"Talia."

The horse whinnied and took position. But as he made to climb on the horse, he heard a thud behind him, at the door of the hut.

"Don't play a trick on me, ma--"

He turned to a see a strange man he didn't see when he was walking out. The fellow was breathing heavily, his right hand clasped to his stomach, he was bathed in his own blood.

Kie had a change of mind.

"Who are you?"

He hurried to the fellow and lifted him up. Then headed back into the hut.

"Talia."

He called...